


One Thing He Will Never Know (a translation)

by Aquamarine_Weasley



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Don't copy to another site, Horror, M/M, Unhealthy Relationships, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-26
Updated: 2019-12-05
Packaged: 2020-10-28 16:30:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20781650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aquamarine_Weasley/pseuds/Aquamarine_Weasley
Summary: Though resentful and disgusted, he still felt an indescribable happiness.Because he realized - as long as he had the boy by his side, death would never threaten him.He must take the boy away from Dumbledore’s gasp. Whether extracting his soul out of his body or using him for other purposes, the boy must walk willingly into his embrace first.He needed a new plan, a plan that would crush every single one of Dumbledore’s. A plan that would confound the Order of the Phoenix. A plan that could reverse the situation into his favor.He would finally have the great finale he expected,at any cost.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ChianyeYue](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChianyeYue/gifts).

> I AM FINALLY DOING THIS!
> 
> This is a translation work of my favorite tomarry of all time. This work does not belong to me, all credits of this fanfic belong to wonderful, wonderful [ChianyeYue](http://chianye27.lofter.com/). If you can read Chinese please click into the page, you'll find many amazing works going on there.
> 
> As a non-native speaker, it's a lot pressure there for me to do the translation, yet I'm doing it. I hope you enjoy this. If you do, please send your love to the original author. But if you don't, please blame me for my incapability T-T
> 
> Also, please don't copy this to another site.
> 
> Last but not least, many, many thanks to [Old_Soul](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Old_Soul/pseuds/Old_Soul) for betaing work! We both know how much I struggled XD

A dark shadow strode all the way through the long corridor before he halted in front of the ugly gargoyle at corner.

_“Meed.”_

With the whispered password, the gargoyle slowly sprang to life and moved aside, revealing a path as the wall behind it split in two. The man stepped onto the spiral staircase immediately as it appeared. With rushing footsteps, his expression was as solemn as it had always been, but there was certainly a hint of confusion, too. As he reached the door at the top of the stairs, he knocked in haste and irritation. When the door swung open, he stepped inside without hesitation.

The beautiful circular room was filled with a sweet smell, and was decorated with curious silver instruments whirring, just the way it had always looked. But the man was in no mood for appreciation. He went straight to the old man, who welcomed him with a gentle smile but also seemed to be curious about his visit at the same time.

“Headmaster.”

“I would like to know what brings you here tonight, Severus?” Dumbledore, the headmaster of Hogwarts, asked gently. He lifted his half-moon spectacles with his slender fingers. With a wave of his wand, he conjured two glasses of wine.

“Since you already have the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts - as you always wished - I thought there would be no more complaints from you before the start-of-term. Isn’t that what you’ve been expecting for so long? …however, it will be a tough year for you, Severus.”

Stroking his beard, Dumbledore sighed slightly. His silver-blue eyes glittered with regrets. This year was going to be different. With darkness enveloping the whole of Britain, they were going to face the greatest challenge yet. So many things that needed to be prepared. Dumbledore had settled his plans till the very end, even handed everything - those heavy burdens - to Snape. But what he couldn’t be easily relieved about was Harry. All his regrets towards that boy burdened him heavily – regrets for everything about the child, everything in his past and future. And yet after this year, there would be even darker, more unacceptable secrets on the boy’s shoulder, leaving him with all the unknown fear to be faced.

“It’s not important anymore, Headmaster, now I’m–” Snape pushed the glass away, apparently not in the mood for drinking.

“Well? So is it my right arm that concerns you then? How thoughtful, Severus. Since when did you become so soft?” Dumbledore smiled, joking lightly. That smile, however, darkened the expression on Snape’s face. A vicious light glittered in his eyes.

“I don’t care how you’re going to die! You know where I went tonight!” Snape bellowed. The vicious words were snapped out with his anger and anxiety, “…It’s not a casual visit tonight. I need to get down to business. Right now, Dumbledore!”  
Dumbledore’s smile was gone. Facing the furious potion master in front of him, there was certainly no joy in that pair of silver-blue eyes. Worry reflected in those wise orbs. Yes, he had probably known that there was more to it from the beginning. He chose to joke only to suppress the ominous sense of impending doom. Both of them were unwilling to hear more bad news at a time like this.

“Severus, I just don’t want to hear any more bad news... we’ve lost so much already. Sirius’s gone, and Harry blamed me for that…I find it hard to face him… maybe it is I who became timid all this time.” Dumbledore sighed again, softly, “As Lord Voldemort’s right-hand man, shouldn’t you be at his meeting tonight? I just hope the reason that drove you here was not because he has seen you through.”

He met Snape in the eyes with his penetrating gaze, but the other man did not even flinch - it seemed things hadn’t gone that bad at all – but it still unsettled Dumbledore, he got a feeling that something unexpected had happened.

“The Dark Lord doesn’t know yet, but that’s not important anymore, Dumbledore. _Not anymore._” Snape tutted impatiently, started to pace in front of the headmaster’s desk, “He summoned us, all his servants. Claimed that he had something important to announce – especially to me – he asked me to tell you this. That’s why I’m here tonight.”

“So you are under his command then?” Giving in to his curiosity, Dumbledore couldn’t help wondering what it could possibly be. They were as incompatible as oil and water, with Voldemort being the very man who had the utmost urge to vanish him, even their relationship as a former teacher and pupil wouldn’t change that. It didn’t occur to him that the message for Snape to convey was anything positive. Maybe Voldemort intended to show them that he had already recognized Snape’s double agent identity, that he had known the potion master was not entirely loyal to him.

“…A truce.” after a pregnant pause, Snape finally managed to say the words.

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows at that.

“The Dark Lord wants me to tell you. He desires to negotiate a truce with the Ministry. He is prepared to make an unbreakable vow with you and you only.”

Dumbledore’s silver-blue eyes widened at the news. As wise and farseeing as he was, he didn’t expect this from Voldemort. Not to mention the advantage that the dark side had lying with them at current. It was practically inconceivable to hear that word coming from them at that moment. He expected that Voldemort, who knew nothing more than invading and conquering, would choose to start a war; to eliminate his existence - as well as the minister’s - and take over the Ministry of Magic. Then he would have the whole Wizarding World of Britain in his grasp.

Or could it be another trap of his? What was Voldemort planning about then? Under the calm surface, the turbulence of his thoughts swirled, but he couldn’t come up with any possibility that would be beneficial to Voldemort, or at least not within the range of what he knew.

  
“Is that all?”

“He wants you to persuade the Minister in person. He meant it to be enforced. He said if we refuse, there’s going to be greater misfortune, but I have no idea what he meant.” Snape admitted with lips pursed into a grim line. He was equally astonished and confused as Voldemort’s other followers when he heard those words from the Dark Lord. But that man paid them no attention, neither did he give any further explanations.

“He said if you agree, he would give me some explainable reasons…Although I’m not sure whether he…”

Snape closed his eyes.

_You could never trust the Dark Lord’s words easily_.

As the slyest, most brilliant man in existence, the dark lord had accomplished great things. Things that many others would never achieve. The man was dangerous as an enemy. Despite being the servant of his lord, he could never easily interpret that man’s true intention. Neither was it possible to tell how much he had seen through. He was the type of man who could be having a pleasant conversation a moment before, then brutally destroy every cherished little thing a minute after. That man knew no love, had no heart. There was nothing about him could be called gentle.

During his period as a double agent, Snape had been facing the constant danger for Lily, and for the boy too. He had no idea when the time was for his true identity to be revealed. As the most trustworthy, favored servant, he was toeing the edge of a cliff, in danger of falling off at any moment. He was no saint, he feared death too.

“I never expected that Voldemort would say that, but if this is true, Severus, he must have a specific reason - ” Dumbledore lowered his eyes to look at the ring on the desk, which was destroyed by Gryffindor’s sword a few days ago. “If Voldemort already knew we are hunting his horcruxes and - well, alarmed - that is probably the worst thing that could happen. We cannot ignore the possibility.”

  
“I’d like to know his reasons. He might not be willing to give us all of them, but if he wants anything near his destination, he must pass us first. Go back and tell him, Severus, that I’m willing to see him. We need to talk.”

“Could this be a trap, Dumbledore? I don’t think Dark Lord wants a truce wholeheartedly.”

“Of course not. I guess dear Bellatrix Lestrange must’ve been bewildered when he made the announcement.”  
“Not only her,” Snape sneered, coldly, “We all were, but no one ever dares to refute the Dark Lord. Now, I can’t even imagine how the future will go.”  
Irritated, Snape closed his eyes. What they had been planning was now in a chaos that had never been expected. What would happen if they continued as they had planned? Was it still possible to defeat Voldemort? Or was everything going to be out-of-control and head into another route?

“Don’t overthink this, Severus. We must now proceed to our goal step by step. If it is not for Lily, didn’t you once think that man’s scheme was right from the bottom of your heart?” comforted Dumbledore, in a gentle voice. Snape looked at him with an expression that couldn’t be deciphered. “So we might as well keep it going. No matter what would happen between him and us, that goal of yours – protecting the boy for Lily – should never change.”

“I understand.”

“It’s just…it’s Harry…what would he think about it? ...Well, I suppose you should go back to Tom, for now.”

Dumbledore covered his forehead with his hand. Snape left, leaving him alone in the headmaster’s office.

He slowly stood up, turned to the portraits of the former headmasters, who were now awake and staring at him in concern, seeming to be equally confused at the sudden news. Dumbledore tilted his head to see his right hand. As Snape implied, there was only one year left for him. For such a sudden twist to come at a moment like this...

In this short life left for him, could he still see a favorable turn of fate?

Was it a favorable turn even, or was it an ominous sign?

“Things have become unpredictable these days. I guess none of our fates are decided, and none of us are able to foresee everything, not even myself, can I?”

He sighed heavily, wishing for good news from Snape, any good news for the rest of the world.

=======

Several hooded men kneeled in silence in the dark, magnificent space of the hall.

The only person who was standing high above with his back to the rest, was staring at the night sky from the window. The silver moonlight showered at him, cutting his body into half silver and half shadow. A giant snake curled around him, hissing at the moon with excitement.

“My lord, why? Why this decision?” Bellatrix enquired, in a nearly pleading voice, “with _them_, with - ” At a loss for words, there was no way for her to accept the fact that her respected master would lower himself to ask a truce of those people she despised. It was a great shock for her too.

  
“Bella.” The voice, which was extremely gentle but cold as ice at the same time, descended and quieted Bellatrix in an instance. “You are talking too much. Haven’t I told you that I would not change my mind no matter what you say?”

Though the warning was gentle, there was nothing but icy cruelty on his face when the man turned around, “You need only to wait for my command. Nothing is necessary aside from that.”

“But, my lord, you didn’t give us a reason. We can definitely win this victory for you, we don’t fear those -”

“Fear? Do you think it is fear then? Why always so impatient, irritated and stupid, Bella?” the Dark Lord laughed, softly. His thin, pale lips lifted a curl, his voice dedicated and frightening as snake’s seduction. Bellatrix lowered her head in fear, unable to imagine the consequences of irritating the powerful man.

“Ah, I see, you think that I’m deceived by Severus, that it is him who convinced me into such unwise decision.”

Faltered at words, Bellatrix’s face reddened. Of course she would never address her suspicion to her lord, whom she worshipped wholeheartedly. But just like everyone else, she couldn’t help questioning her lord’s abnormal behavior either. Although they’d failed obtaining the prophecy in the Ministry of Magic, their strength had grown significantly due to the Ministry’s ignorance. It was not reasonable to call a halt to their action at the very moment.

For a few days, the Dark Lord seemed to be constantly deep in thought. While after his silence in those days, his last decision was a truce with the Ministry.

“I, I didn’t mean that, my lord…”

“Liar.” That cold and arrogant voice shut her up. She kneeled, trembling like a leaf.

The Dark Lord, however, didn’t really seem to be furious. A slight smile climbed on his face, as if it was merely a mask.

“Bella, and my faithful friends, there’s nothing you need to worry about.” The Dark Lord lowered his steps on the stairs, his pale serpent-face as terrifying as ever with his smooth moves amplified the horror. No one ever dared to look up at him. He spread his arms, facing Bellatrix and rest of his servants.

“Carrow…Crabbe…Goyle…Rodolphus…Yaxley…and Lucius.”

He walked through the death eaters, halted in front of one of the hooded, kneeling men, the high-pitched voice made them all tremble. “My loyal, camouflaging friends, you only need to hide in the place where you should be, and wait, patiently.”

He suddenly reached out, grabbing Lucius’s left arm. Lucius paled at the sudden move under his hood, fear passed across his face.

The Dark Lord lowered his voice, but loud enough for everyone else to hear.

“When the dark mark burns once more, when the time comes - ”

On his left arm, was where the dark mark burnt into. It was in a lighter shade. No one knew what this meant.

At that very moment, the front door was pushed open. With the cracking sound, heavy footsteps echoed in the hall.

Wormtail was hiding behind the door. Trembling with fear, he looked warily at the gloomy men who were walking towards their lord. Then he retracted his gaze, as if he was too afraid to look.

The Dark Lord only laughed with joy. It didn’t matter anymore if he couldn’t Legilimens Snape’s secret out - that man’s expression had told him everything he needed to know - the result he expected had come. He nearly lost his control to the rapture.

He continued, a wild excitement and endless darkness swirled in those crimson eyes  
“We will have a true victory. One which no one can ever stand against. We have nothing to fear.”

=======

Dumbledore waited for Scrimgeour’s response in silence. The man’s gray hair seemed to pale even further during the short period since he became the Minister of Magic. Since Voldemort’s return forced Fudge’s resignation, he took the heavy burden in the time of turbulence. However, all his preparations for the war against darkness were all interrupted by the unexpected news brought by Dumbledore.

  
“You - You mean you have talked… with him, with _You-Know-Who_?” Bewildered, Scrimgreour found it hard to believe, “Why didn’t he - I mean You-Know-Who…” he couldn’t help a shiver even when mentioning the man, “Why didn’t he speak with the Ministry directly? Why come to you?”  
  
“An excellent question. I suppose he anticipated a little unnecessary fight before being able to talk to the Ministry face to face. So he chose me, a harmless old man, to negotiate with you for him, Scrimgeour.”

“But is that even true? Does You-Know-Who really want a truce between us?”

“Without a doubt.” Stroking his beard, Dumbledore chuckled, a gesture exactly opposite to Scrimgeour’s anxiety, “I was suspicious in the beginning too. He’s at least serious about the truce. Although, no one knows what will follow.”  
  
“How is that even possible? You propose that we just live on with him in peace? I am in this position to _fight_. He-who-must-not-be-named has returned, and since that boy has faced him…this is our chance. I am here as the Minister of Magic to destroy - ”

“You tried to convince me to let Harry work for the Ministry. Yes, the Ministry might need some encouragement, which, of course will only be beneficial for you to stay where you are…But Scrimgeour, you are only trying to use the boy to reinforce your position as the Minister, while I will not allow that to happen. There’s already too much for Harry to bear.”

As if offended by Dumbledore, a glint of rage crossed Scrimgeour’s eyes. “But think about it. With everyone alarmed these days, people might decide to join the dark side in fear of losing everything in the war. I know Voldemort, he is a master of enticement and persuasion, and that’s not a good thing for the Ministry. ”

“We should kill him. This is our chance, Dumbledore.”

“No one can compete with Lord Voldemort when it comes to deceiving and cheating. It is not wise for the Ministry to destroy him during the truce. On the contrary, it may invite greater danger. He’s still powerful, Scrimgeour, more powerful than you can imagine.”

Especially when the Horcruxes haven’t been destroyed yet.

Dumbledore hadn’t told anyone about it. But he knew there was not enough preparation to destroy Lord Voldemort at the moment. Even if the dark wizard could be killed once more, nothing could stop him if he made his return again. And Dumbledore was the only one who was aware of that.

“Are we really going to have a truce with You-Know-Who? Do you know how _humiliating_ that would be for the Ministry!”

“Yes, it is. It’s like a surrender for us. But it is also the same for Voldemort. Think about all the innocent people out there - people who only want peace. There are plenty of them who support his ideals. If you accept the truce as the Minister, you might be able to prevent a war. Parents who have children will appreciate your decision. We will have peace, even if it may end up temporary.”

“Ha! So you can’t guarantee that You-Know-Who will do nothing after the truce.” Scrimgerour raised his tone as if he had just found a loophole in Dumbledore’s words.

“No, I absolutely cannot. I am not your enemy, Scrimgeour. This is the same thing I tried to convince Cornelius.” Dumbledore nodded in agreement, while Scrimgenour stared at him as if he had just hit him in the face. “I was told by Lord Voldemort that he is willing to make an Unbreakable Vow with the Ministry - under his name - that he will not harm anyone unless he is under attack. Ah, of course that requires your cooperation, Scrimgeour, because I can hardly imagine that any of the Aurors, or even a citizen would ever miss the chance to surprise attack him for revenge.”

Scrimgerour’s eyes widened, he couldn’t believe that You-Know-Who was willing to make an unbreakable vow.

Yet it seemed to be true, while there was no other solution for him.

“So – so he’s about to make the vow with me then?” Scrimgeour couldn’t help a shiver of fear when thinking about it.

“No, with me,” corrected Dumbledore. He recalled the last time when he had the rare chance of a peaceful conversation with Voldemort under Snape’s collaboration. It was after that time when they encountered at Ministry. “He suggested that he was willing to stay in Hogwarts during the period of truce, so we can better supervise him. Of course, children won’t be harmed. Not a good thing losing young talented wizards for him either.”

It was the hardest thing to deal with. There must be many parents who would refuse to let their children live with their greatest threat. Meanwhile, Dumbledore was sure that Voldemort wouldn’t stay in Hogwarts for such a simple, nice excuse of better supervision – he was probably hoping for collecting his new wings and claws, or possibly _something else_.

Dumbledore sighed at the sight of Scrimgrour’s hesitation. It was actually quite simple. There was nothing there to hesitate about, because they didn’t really have a choice either way.

“The Ministry can choose to disagree, of course. Then there shall be war. This truce will allow us more time to prepare, to fight. It is _the_ chance, Scrimgeour. Make your decision.” Dumbledore’s expression turned solemn, his eyes conveyed a glint of tiredness. “I want to defeat him more than you do. I, too, believe this is a rough bet, for both him and us.”

Scrimgeour looked at Dumbledore suspiciously. He didn’t like the man, yet he couldn’t deny that he was the greatest wizard of all time. Even though Dumbledore was keeping a distance from the Ministry, he couldn’t really be considered as an enemy at the very moment.

Their true enemy was the shifty, horrifying dark wizard far, far away.

And Scrimgeour was also a man who valued his own life.

“I am looking forward to your response, Minister.”

Dumbledore remained silent after these words.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to [Old_Soul](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Old_Soul/pseuds/Old_Soul) for betaing work!

A giant snake slowly slid across the floor. Silver moonlight showered through window. While at the end of the corridor, a dark, ghostly figure blocked the light, the end of his robe drifting slightly in the breeze.

It was her beloved master. A man who had no heart or love. Yet there was no one knew him better than her, no one more loyal to him than her. She had been with the man for so long. Long enough to grew used to his silence, used to his dangerous coercion that originated from his nature, used to his loneliness and cruelty, as well as his wisdom and violence.

She would follow her master - wherever he decided to go. Her master had made a decision which was entirely new to himself too, she was aware of that.

The snake slid pass the man’s side, climbing onto the cold armrest and drawing close to the man. His expression remaining blank, he reached out to caress the snake’s cool scale. The synchronization unspoken between them.

“_I am going back, Nagini_.” he hissed. Moonlight reflected in his crimson orbs like a phantom, “_The only place where I could call it home…_”

The snake leaned into the touch, “_Are you feeling nostalgic, massster?…I barely sssee you like thisss..._”

“_I am. I haven’t been this sensitive for a long time. Recalling those old memories that I’ve almost forgotten, yessss, the student me…_” A small, crooked grin that made the man looked even more merciless lifted his lips, “_Ever since Dumbledore rejected my request for the teaching position_,_ I’ve never thought I could be back to Hogwarts again. How ironic._”

“_Massster, you have been weird… ever sssince that trip to the cave…_”

“_You are speaking like my stupid servants. Are you questioning me too, Nagini?_”

“_No…no, massster…_” Nagini hissed gently, her head leaning into the pale, giant hand, “_I am worried…_”

Worried. That was an emotion Voldemort could never understand. Maybe even Nagini, the snake, knew it better than him. A faint smile crept across his face, a fondness only Nagini was ever privy to.

“_I will be back. Tomorrow. It will be significant, more than anything I’ve accomplished up to this point_. And _more dangerous than anything I have ever attempted. Nagini, I never expected that one day I would risk everything in a single venture.”_

Narrowing his crimson eyes, his hand reached into his sleeve, pulling out a locket that glittered silver and gold. There was no magic - no power in it. It was nothing but a mere, crude counterfeit.

Nagini eyed the locket in his hand with disgust, then she turned to her master in confusion.

“_Why not throw it away?… why bring it back?_”

“_Indeed, why…keeping a piece of junk like this._”

Voldemort didn’t answer. He opened and reopened the locket absentmindedly. No matter how many times he did so, nothing changed. Only a single piece of old parchment resided inside. Irritation filled him each time he read it, the insulting words filling him with a searing fury. It was only when the monstrous fury calmed, that he finally accepted the disappointing fact.

_“I face death in the hope that when you meet your match you will be mortal once more.”_

It was the last line on the parchment - _“Match”_. In this world, who was worthy to be his match then?

Unwittingly, he thought of someone. It was neither Dumbledore nor anyone he had faced in the Order of Phoenix. It was Harry Potter.

He couldn’t help a sneer at the thought - that powerless boy was nowhere near worthy. If it wasn’t for his mother and for Dumbledore’s protection, he could have claimed his life a long time ago. The only reason that the boy could escape from him, be alive and wandering freely in the world was mere luck.

He wanted to kill Harry Potter so badly. It was the one thing he wanted more than anything in the world. There was only one problem, which he discovered recently.

He had never regretted anything he chose to do. And yet... he found himself filled with a feeling so foreign that he had only read about it in books. How ironic, that now he felt _regret. _

But despite whatever he may or may not feel, he would go to Hogwarts tomorrow. The Dark Lord would finally face the public, accepting all the conditions from the Ministry and Hogwarts and _vow. _

It would be a ritual with a magical power that was so strong, that even _he _couldn’t easily violate it. He would obey, be sincere, and vow that they would live in peace during the truce with the Ministry. He believed that no one - except for perhaps Dumbledore - would ever suspect his true intentions.

Scrimgeour was a foolish man, he wouldn’t even dare to bargain with him. Well, if those fools from the Ministry really thought that he would simply submit into obedience, who was he to correct them? One day they would pay for every decision they had made. _Eventually_.

Loosening his grip, he let the fabricated locket drop into the impenetrable dark abyss outside the window. No sound echoed back.

His dark robe drifted in the wind ominously, the shower of moonlight highlighting the cruelest of his features. An icy, scarlet light glinted in those terrifying crimson eyes.

“_This is a bet, Nagini. If I win, I will be more powerful than ever - far more powerful._”

_ “But... what if we lose massster?” _asked Nagini, lazily.

To her great surprise, she didn’t hear the expected arrogant scolding from her master. She thought that man would refute that his plans never failed, as he always did.

But he didn’t.

_“Master?”_

He gazed into the starry night silently. Dark secrets concealed in the depths of his eyes. They were venom that killed without a trace, with no boundary in place or time.

  
He closed his eyes, bathing in the surging emotions in his heart –

Tomorrow, he would be back at Hogwarts.

=======

Under the magical ceiling that reflected the brilliant constellations above, four long tables that belonged to the four houses lined in the Great Hall of Hogwarts. The candles that floated above the tables illuminated the gigantic space. At first glance, it didn’t look any different from the previous year. But if one observed more closely, it was easy to find a few scattered empty seats amongst the crowd. Whispers about the students who should be in those empty seats, but had disappeared after the summer vacation, as well as the reason regarding their disappearance, filled the hall. 

“I mean, it’s obvious…imagine how terrified parents are, that their children will be…” explained Hermione, trying to put more strength into her words. But a visible tension was still there, deep down in her voice.

“…I think they’re all just scared.”

She was holding the latest Daily Prophet, every page of which was discussing the same topic. A photo of a furious-looking Scrimgeour during his speech occupied the whole front page. He was gesturing wildly and claiming firmly that the truce was something “enforced but thoroughly considered”. There were a few subtitles, such as _“No Longer Safe - Hogwarts with You-Know-Who”_, _“Farewell to the Dark Era, Minister Scrimgour’s Last Decision”_, _“Right or Wrong?__ A Measured Aye __from Dumbledore in Hogwarts”_ were demonstrated strikingly across the pages in big bolded letters.

Hermione’s knuckles went white from holding the papers too tightly. She was just as worried as everyone else, even if she tried to put on a strong front. Even all reports and editorials in newspapers and journals regarding the truce that she had eagerly finished couldn’t smooth her tension.

“Mom fought with Dad too, the day before we left. It was crazy, Mom was so strongly against sending us back to school - said it’s too dangerous.” Ron shook his head, with a disturbingly vacant expression. He stared at the delicious chicken leg and pancakes in a daze. For _Ron_ of all people to lose his appetite… it was just unheard of.

“She said we could all die,” Ron whispered, obviously upset.

He turned to Hermione with a confused expression, “Dad told me many muggle-borns decided not to come at all, because they are afraid of…” He trailed off, unable to finish the statement, “Why didn’t your parents stop you from coming?”

“Oh, that... well, actually they have no idea.” With sadness crept across her face, she confessed gently, “I never told them.”

Of course she didn’t. She wanted to come to Hogwarts. She knew Harry and Ron would come and still wanted to continue her education, despite all the risks. A blanket of silence settled among the trio following her admission.

To busy herself, she picked up a pumpkin tart, lifting it to her mouth. But just when she went to take a bite, she stopped. Placing the treat down on her plate instead, she studied her friend who sat across from her next to Ron. He was staring at his food quietly, his mind obviously elsewhere. Out of all the people in this room, he was the most at risk. If anyone should be in hiding, it was him. But he didn’t, he came to Hogwarts anyway without any regard for his life.

The most surprising part out of all of it, was how Dumbledore let him do it. The headmaster could have easily ordered him not to. Why didn’t he then?

“Harry?” Hermione called out, softly, breaking the silence.

After a pregnant silence, Harry finally came back to himself, taking in the look of concern and worry on the faces of his two best friends.

“Wh – what? Sorry, I wasn’t listening,” he lied lightly.

In truth, he had heard every word of his two friends’ conversation. Honestly, he had no idea how to react to any of it or what to say. Too many emotions piled up in his chest, tangling so horribly that he didn’t know where to even begin straightening them out.

“Mate, I know how you feel, I wouldn’t feel any better if I were you.” Ron patted Harry on the shoulder, trying to comfort him, “Merlin knows what Hogwarts is going to become. This is crazy. How could they let You-Know-Who... _live_ with us? Are they mad?”

“I’m not worried about Voldemort....” Harry corrected, voice hoarse and mouth already dry due to his nervousness. Ron protested loudly to the name, but Harry and Hermione didn’t pay him any attention.

“Dumbledore and I talked. He says there’s no reason to worry. Something about a strong vow that uses very powerful magic.”

“Dad told me that Aurors are coming too, probably hiding in case anything goes wrong,” added Ron, looking around the room with hope in his eyes.

But, would that monster cooperate? Without any resistance at all?

With a dreadful feeling in his heart, he had to admit it was beyond his wildest imagination.

No, what he was worried about in truth, was neither all the pitiful stares he earned, nor those that whispered behind his back from the moment he arrived at school. It was a dream. A dream about a boy’s past. He felt fragments of the dream pass through him. Each faded into a blur that he couldn’t recall clearly. But _oh the feelings_ the dream contained - the loneliness, agony, isolation. They consumed him. Even now, the memory sent shivers down his spine.

Harry raised his head to look at Dumbledore who was sitting at the head table, alongside the rest of the staff – they were all ghastly pale. Snape, amongst all of them, wore a sour expression as he always did. As for professor Slughorn, whom Harry met with Dumbledore during the summer, his face was white as a sheet. He looked as if he was facing his greatest enemy. He likely regretted accepting the position.

Only Dumbledore seemed unaffected, acting as if nothing was wrong. He got up to his feet, smiling benignly with his arms opened wide as though to embrace the whole room. 

“Welcome, welcome! What a lovely and special night.”

Several people gasped as Dumbledore spread his arms. His right hand was as dark as burnt coal - blackened and practically dead. Some of the students even screamed at the sight.

“Oh Merlin! What happened to his hand? Could it be - ”

“No,” snapped Harry, gloomily. Hermione looked at him in surprise.

“It’s not Voldemort, His hand was like that when I saw him over the summer. The truce was after that, wasn’t it?”

“Then what could it be – Oh Ron, we are going to meet him in person anyway, stop whining!” Irritated, Hermione turned and hissed to Ron, who was protesting because of the name again.

Apparently, many students believed the blackened arm was cursed by Voldemort as Hermione did. Horrified whispers swept the hall. Dumbledore merely smiled and hid his injury into sleeve, then faced the crowd again.

“This is a special year. We are pleased to welcome a new member of our staff – Professor Slughorn, as the professor of Potions.” said Dumbledore. Slughorn stood up, waving briefly to student, before sitting back down in a haste. He kept his gaze at the closed gate, as if fearing for something that might break in.

“Professor Snape, meanwhile, will be taking over the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.”

“_What?_” Harry exclaimed in horror, “This is just great. First Voldemort coming to Hogwarts. Now _Snape _is going to be teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts. What kind of world it is going to be? - ”

Hemione and Ron seemed to be equally bewildered. They both thought Slughorn was going to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts after Harry told them about the visit during summer break. Considering they would be facing Voldemort this year, that class was exceptionally important to them more than ever. Well, that hope had certainly crumbled to nothing.

At the staff table, Dumbledore cleared his throat to get the attention of the students. His expression turned slightly solemn, a hint of concern in his silver-blue eyes. Looking down at his frightened students, he could imagine how nervous they were. They were probably all waiting for the moment, yet still unwilling to accept it. 

After the buzz of conversation of the news died out, he began, “Now. As everybody in this Hall learnt from the newspaper, Hogwarts is about to face it’s greatest challenge yet. You might be scared, but I can assure you that you are going to be safe in Hogwarts. The Ministry as well as the staff of Hogwarts will not allow anyone to be harmed in the school. Of course, I recommend you avoid anything unwise and to conduct yourselves with the utmost regard for your own and others’ safety. Help each other. Resist temptation. This is the most noble behavior I can ask you to pass through this particular time. As we all know, this year we are going to welcome - ”

Just as everyone in the hall focused on Dumbledore’s speech, the gate suddenly opened without invitation.

The candle that illuminated the hall flickered. Students whipped around to see what happened but paled. Even those at the Slytherin table maintained stern faces, holding their breath in tension. Harry speculated that everyone in the hall already knew who the visitor was the moment the gate flew open.

Only one man stood there bathed in moonlight, his tall, slender figure projecting a long shadow.

His long, black robe trailed to the ground. His shadow melted into the night. The room was so quiet, one could hear a pin being dropped. The figure stepped forward into the hall, his movements smooth as if he were gliding. Below his robe, a giant snake could be seen. The reptile that was at least several meters long drew several cries of alarm out of the students who sat closest to him. They lifted their feet but held their voice immediately, as if they were too afraid to draw any attention - especially from that man - but it was unnecessary, because that face hidden under the hood didn’t raise at all. He kept his route straight and unwavering until he reached his destination.

He stopped at the center of the hall. By this point he must’ve noticed the deathly silence in the hall. He chuckled in amusement, as if enjoying the horrified, panicked expressions around him.

Dumbledore merely waited in silence, keeping his gaze calm and grave.

“It cost me quite some time to walk all the way here. I believe I’m not late, am I?” came a gentle, but horrifying voice under the hood, “I sensed the magical fortifications of Hogwarts had strengthened the moment I entered. Is that because of me?”

It was clearly not a question – he didn’t need to ask – but a sarcasm that was his true intention.

“To the contrary, you are quite on time, Tom,” Dumbledore adjusted his spectacles.

A wave of confusion washed over students upon hearing the name. Those who had never heard the birth name of You-Know-Who, likely wondered whom Dumbledore was referring to. But the crowd was irrelevant now. Harry narrowed his eyes, expecting to see the man’s reaction to his true name.

There was indeed, a movement on Voldemort’s shoulder, meanwhile Harry felt a wave of irritation. He wondered whether the short distance was responsible for the increased sensitivity to the man’s emotions. He could feel a twitch of pain in the scar on his forehead.

“I do not go by that name anymore, Dumbledore. However - ” That cold voice claimed arrogantly with a glint of amusement at the end of his words.

“Perhaps it is a matter that we shall compromise on. Considering the fear my name brings, it may be in the students’ best interest.”

Like a shock of electricity, Harry realized what was nagging at him. Voldemort’s voice had changed - giving him a feeling that the man was different from the Voldemort he knew of. Whenever Harry had met him, (whether in the graveyard or the Department of Mysteries) his voice was high-pitched and chilly, resembling the hissing of a snake.

Though the arrogant tone and the way he lowered his voice were identical, the intonation of the man in front of them was softer, and milder too. Almost… gentle.

His features also differed slightly from before. Harry narrowed his eyes. Though the man under the cloak was still quite tall for a wizard, he had a feeling that he seemed to be more slender than usual as well.

Was this man really Voldemort? If it wasn’t, then who was he?

Alarms rang in Harry’s head, putting him on edge. His heart beat wildly and sweat collected on the palms of his hands. Emerald orbs quickly turned to Dumbledore, who seemed to have no opposition at all to Voldemort’s approach.

Had Dumbledore noticed nothing?

A disturbing feeling of being watched washed over him like a bucket of cold water. Turning his gaze from the headmaster back to Voldemort, an uneasy feeling settled in the pit of his stomach. For a fleeting moment, glowing crimson orbs locked onto his. His heart skipped a beat - because those eyes _were_ Voldemort’s eyes, slit-pupiled, ruby-red and glittering monstrously.

Pain erupted along his scar, spreading across his forehead like wildfire. It _burned. _He had been so stupid. How could it not be Voldemort? The evidence spoke for itself. That man was the Dark Lord himself, without any doubt.

“I hope you didn’t bring any followers of yours here tonight. It would hardly impress the Ministry.”

“Lord Voldemort always keeps his promises.” Voldemort sighed slightly, his slender fingers reaching to the edge of his hood, “You know what it would cost to break that vow, Dumbledore. Besides, I have no interest in ruining Hogwarts – you should be grateful that I was able to find a way to appease both sides, rather than continuing this war.”

His voice lowered, a sarcastic chuckle rumbling from his throat, as if indicating he didn’t really think so,

“I bring to you proof of the sincerity I have for leaving you in peace.”

People were holding their breath, tensely waiting for him to pull off his cloak. Although they had never seen Voldemort in person, they had certainly heard descriptions from Harry’s interviews and rumors from the children of death eaters - the pale, serpent skin, those crimson eyes, cheeks hollowed like a skeleton’s.

Even Harry’s jaw dropped in surprise as Voldemort pulled his cloak off. It wasn’t the pale serpent face revealed in front of them, but rather the young, handsome man he once saw through the diary.

Subconsciously, he snapped to look at Ginny who was sitting a little farther down the table. It wasn’t surprising to see her pale expression– the man standing in front of them was Tom Riddle, who seemed to be around an age of seventeen, the man responsible for her possession during first her year. The memories would haunt her for the rest of her life.

“I am making a great deal of concessions on the issue of my appearance, Dumbledore, you can count this as my… show of manner.” Voldemort, or one should call him Tom Riddle now, lifted his lips into a faint smile on his lips.

He surveyed the students who were gazing up at him but ignored the shocked expressions of the crowd, “Most of you know me by the name Lord Voldemort, but when I was a student here at Hogwarts I went by a different name - Tom. M. Riddle. I feel that it is only appropriate to call me by my surname during my period at Hogwarts. It is more convenient. I still have some acquaintances here after all - ” He suddenly turned to Slughorn, who trembled from tip to toe, “ - It would be terribly cruel to scare the residents like scaring my servants after all.”

Of course, it was not possible for students to suddenly begin calling Voldemort by something as informal as his surname, (Harry knew just how fearful the students were of the dark lord) but it was astonishing that Voldemort didn’t intend to hide his roots. He knew that Voldemort despised the muggle name.

It seemed that he didn’t care how many students could learn his past from it. On the contrary, it seemed he had hoped that they could grow intimate with him. With an elegant smile on Riddle’s face, it was hard to connect him with the Voldemort who cast and era of darkness and horror across the Wizarding world.

“Very well, Tom. That’s very thoughtful of you. Thank you for your consideration for our students, ” nodded Dumbledore, “I believe this will only make it easier for all of us to live in harmony here at Hogwarts.”

Dumbledore wasn’t fooled by Voldemort’s seemingly considerate actions. He had lowered himself on purpose. There was something the Dark Lord needed in the castle. The disguise as Riddle would facilitate his action, perhaps influence students deeper as well. 

“Well, I suppose I can make a few changes for my new life here.” Riddle agreed with a shrug.

Absent-mindedly, Harry stared at the man. The long table separated the two of them nicely.

Tom Riddle. Harry had known he used to be handsome, (which was also a fact that probably everyone else in the hall would agree) but he didn’t anticipate it to this degree. His deep crimson eyes appeared more attractive on his elegant features than the monstrous face he had before. Those thin, pale lips curled into a smile, which was neither too wide nor too slight.

Though Harry had already known what he looked like a long time ago, seeing him in-person and in the flesh felt different. Unlike the one he saw in the diary, his movement had the elegance he maintained as the Dark Lord in past decades – an arrogance that was high above, an aura that was dangerous and lethal. Despite he looking young, he didn’t look like a student by any stretch of the imagination.

Virtually, Voldemort had the effect he expected. It was obvious that many people had lowered their guard; lessened the fear towards the Dark Lord. All because of an appearance change and permission to call his by his birth name. The silence was broken. Some of the students started to whisper to each other. They had regained the courage to talk.

Only a few people, including Ron and Hermione as well as Neville and Ginny (who sat further away), remained on guard, their faces grave and solemn.

Dumbledore descended the stairs, walking towards Riddle. It was probably because the atmosphere had lessened, students from both sides started to engaged into whispered discussions. The giant snake on the floor, irritated by the disturbance, let out horrifyingly angry hisses. 

“As the headmaster of Hogwarts, I welcome you back to school, Tom. It’s been fifty years, hasn’t it?”

“As if you really care,” Riddle snorted sarcastically, “I am indeed yearning to visit Hogwarts once more. I would love to look around, but I’m afraid my trip has exhausted me. I assume my place of residence was already arranged prior to my arrival?”

Riddle spread his palms disarmingly. Harry noticed he wasn’t holding his pale wand. At that moment, the Dark Lord seemed to be defenseless, but no one would dare to attack him standing in the great hall with so many students around. He seemed quite confident about his safety.

“Yes, we have it arranged. I believe Severus would be able to take you there.”

“Very well.” Riddle nodded.

Either by design or accident, he glimpsed Harry Potter at his place among the Gryffindors. As he had noticed from the corner of his eye, the boy was glaring at him viciously with a piercing gaze. He chuckled, that boy should know how powerless he is in this situation.

Retracting his gaze, a fearless smile crept onto his lips. Nagini had slowly climbed back onto his shoulder, coiling around his neck.

  
“No need to be alarmed. I appreciate Hogwarts’ hospitality. I’m under your care now.”

=======

He walked through the long, dim corridor, Nagini sliding along behind him, enjoying the sight of the flickering light of candles. He was in a quite pleasant mood right now. While at the hall, he had the feeling that the Ministry couldn’t keep their hands entirely off the matter. Maybe it was due to the distrust towards him. How ridiculous. Not even Lord Voldemort would dare risking his life by opposing an unbreakable vow.

Hogwarts, the only place he ever called home. He had left it behind long ago. He longed for the air, the humid, cool breeze in the dungeon, the hours he spent with his books at corner of the common room. Since he became the leader of Slytherin in his fifth year, the only time that he could have for his own were the hours in the dead of night.

He missed those days; missed the moonlight and the breeze, missed how the air was always shimmering with pure heady magic.

“You have something to ask, Severus?” He asked, setting his gaze on the dark cloak of his servant.

“…My lord,” Severus stopped, turning around and facing his master, he hesitated, but couldn’t help inquiring, “What is your plan? It’s not like you - the truce.”

“Dumbledore didn’t tell you then; Why I am coming here?” Riddle eyed Snape, with interest.

Snape was not the type of servant to question him about his intentions. Rather, he was often the one who remained silent, and never stuck his nose into business that wasn’t his own. He focused on his own task only. It was curious that Dumbledore hadn’t told him the reason for the meeting yet, which he had revealed a certain amount during their negotiation.

“It seems he didn’t then.”

“My lord, is it really- ”

_“Tom Riddle!”_

Their conversation was interrupted by a familiar roar of anger emanating from the way they came. It seemed the owner of the voice finally managed to catch up to them. Several pairs of footsteps followed, another two figures catching up with their impulsive friend. The pair were doubled over, gulping for air desperately.

“Harry, mate… why did you suddenly run out of the hall, the dinner hasn’t finished yet, we - ” Breathing hard, Ron supported himself on Harry’s shoulder. As soon as he noticed the two dark wizards standing mere meters away, he shut up immediately, as if he had just swallowed a fly.

Hermione looked at her two best friends with clear concern in her eyes. She knew Harry was running after Voldemort. No matter how dangerous that man was, she and Ron would never let him face the dark lord alone. Despite her resolve, she had no idea what she could do in this situation.

“Well, well, well - Look who it is. _Harry Potter_.” Riddle’s lips lifted into a smile in pleasure, his voice soft and smooth as silk, “What was it the public are calling you these days? The chosen one? Becoming more and more famous, aren’t you, _Harry_?”

“You know I have nothing to do with that. Stop changing the bloody subject! Why are you coming to Hogwarts? What is your plan?” Harry shoved off Ron’s hand, stepping forward impulsively. “I’m not buying the whole _truce_ idea!”

“Potter, if you still have any brain cells. This is _school_. If you don’t want Gryffindor to lose any house points _before term has even begun_, you’d better watch your manners and return to the great hall for dinner-”

“No, Severus, let the boy speak.” Riddle stopped Snape. Flashing a gentle smile, he stepped towards Harry.

“But, my lord-”

“I want to talk with him,” Riddle said firmly. Snape could do nothing but step aside with a muttered agreement.

Hermione reacted immediately, attempting to pull Harry back towards her and Ron. Stubbornly, Harry refused to move, his expression full of rage and suspicion. He had the vaguest idea why he wasn’t afraid of Voldemort at all now. He thought about Sirius, everything that man had done. Those thoughts swirled into a furious chaos in his mind. He couldn’t help a surge of rage when he saw Voldemort walking out with Snape - his legs moved on their own, following the man all the way out of the hall.

Sirius was _dead _because of Voldemort. Snape was not innocent either – he stopped teaching him Occumenlency.

Riddle gave a glance to Ron and Hermione who were behind Harry’s back. Both looked satisfyingly horrified when he approached Harry. In contrast to his friends’ fear, that stubborn boy glared at him fearlessly. Despite the brave front the boy put on, Riddle was still able to see his tension through his unprotected mind. Eventually, he closed their distance, standing mere inches in front of the boy.

“Potter, you never think before you act, do you? Aren’t you afraid of being killed running after me so recklessly?” He dragged his wand out from his sleeve, pressing the tip to Harry’s chest. Hermione gasped, but Riddle simply glared her before turning back to the boy-who-lived. Harry, on the other hand, tried to guard Hermione with his body. With Voldemort being prejudiced against Muggle-borns, he wasn’t going to take the risk of him trying to hurt his friend.

“You vowed to not harm students, have you not? Or is that just another lie?” Harry snapped, grimacing. Maybe it was as he suspected.

“Of course I will keep my word as long as no one here attacks me. I would never harm students unless it is self-defense. Quite a pity that you are also a student here.”

“W – why then? Why _Hogwarts_?…”

“Oh, you really want to know?” those crimson eyes of Riddle glittered scarlet, enjoying the look of expectancy that the boy unintentionally revealed on his face.

“But of course I would never tell you, Potter. Do you really think that a few questions would be enough to have me share all my plans with you? Especially someone whom I want to kill so badly. Boy, you should know that every time I see you, I just can’t resist the…**_hatred_.**”

It was a strong word. Yet it barely expressed the deep-seated feelings he had for the boy. There was nothing that could irritate him more - seeing the person whom he wanted to kill the most_ swaggering around_ and yet there was no way for him to pull out his wand and curse him to death. The loathing he had towards the boy was so extreme that every time he saw the boy, he would feel his magic come to life, ready to murder the threat.

But things were no longer that simple. Not only must he follow the constraints of the vow, there were also other reasons that he must keep the boy alive.

His icy gaze pinned Harry where he stood. It was not the first time Harry saw those eyes with such intense disgust – Voldemort had always looked at him like that - including their last two encounters - but right now, there seemed to be something else concealed underneath the pure hatred.

“You - ” Harry tried to counter, but failed to form a proper sentence.

Pulling away, Riddle interrupted him without hesitation, “I must rest now. You are not worth my time, boy.” He turned around, unwilling to spend any more time on him.

Just as Harry began sulking from being looked down upon, a gentle smile that he had never seen whispering across Riddle’s lips. Even his voice grew gentle.

“See you tomorrow, Harry Potter.”

_Pain._ Harry pressed onto his scar instantly with a wince.

It happened the moment when Riddle smiled. A strong pain, beyond anything he had ever felt suddenly swept him over. It was like someone stabbed a needle into his head, draining all his strength, digging into his body and pulling all the knowledge out of him. He cried out and collapsed to his knees from incomparable agony. He heard Ron and Hermione calling his name in concern, trying to support him with their hands to the best of their ability, but he couldn’t respond them.

“Harry, Harry! Oh God, are you alright?” Hermione held his hand. She was almost in tears.

In a daze, he could only see that cruel smile sitting on the corner of Tom Riddle’s lips mockingly. Seeing him wailing in agony, the man walked away contently as if it was a warm summer’s evening.

“Fine…I’m fine…Hermione…don’t worry…” His voice was already unlike his own, neither did he had any idea what he was talking about. He only wished the pain to stop. It was killing him.

A long time after the footsteps disappeared at the end of the corridor, the pain finally dulled enough that Harry could think.

Ron helped him, resting against the wall. Sweat soaked his clothes, and all his strength was gone.

That hatred. So strong that even he could feel it through the pain. He was too naïve about it – even if the man couldn’t harm him for now, he could still torture him. The pain nauseated him. Riddle _smiled_, kindly and harmlessly, completely at odds with that level of hatred.

This connection they shared, it sickened him, made his blood run cold.

And he had to stay in the same schoolyard with a man who wanted to kill him more than anything. It was complete madness.

Dumbledore was _mad_, allowing this man to enter Hogwarts. His mind raced with the possibilities. What would happen tomorrow?

He was inconsolable for the rest of the night.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A billions of thanks to [Wolven_Spirits](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wolven_Spirits/pseuds/Wolven_Spirits) Sensei, for beta, Thank you for your patience and time, I can't do this without you I LOVE YOU SO MUCH!

The morning sun shone into his room, heating the space as it crept higher. Driven off by the unwanted warmth, the snake uncoiled from its spot on the bed and moved to a shadier, cooler spot in the corner of the room. The man, too, couldn’t help but drag the sheet up to his face to shield himself from the dazzling sunlight. But it didn’t last long — he quickly reached his limit and threw off the covers, frowning deeply as he rose from his bed in a foul mood. His fingers ran through the strands of dark hair that fell onto his forehead, threading them backwards, narrowed his eyes in the warmth of morning sunshine.

“Arranging me a room like this, that malicious, cunning, old fox…” he cursed, feeling resentful as he stood. Malicious, cunning, old fox … a fitting title for that old man.

They both knew the conditions they had agreed for the truce weren’t that simple as it seemed — they both, after all, had their own intentions. Riddle knew that Dumbledore was no more a noble man than he was — those conditions of their agreements were purely for the old man’s own benefit.

But still, he had expected the headmaster to arrange a better room for him. The blinding morning sunshine that welcomed him enthusiastically disgusted him. His room was positioned at the top of a tower, though it came with a splendid view of the shimmering lake and shades of green of the ground and forbidden forest, the lighting of the sun was blinding. 

His room, he was sure, was a way to isolate him from the students, but it suited his purpose just fine, as he was not planning on any excess interactions with the students. On the contrary, his isolation in fact pleased him, for it meant fewer people would get into his way.

Unfortunately, he was destined to be conspicuous. If he wanted to implement his plan secretly, he would have to wait a little longer — wait until the students grew used to his existence.

After a brief wash-up, Riddle returned to his bedroom, and dressed himself into the black robe that was laid out for him. He looked into the mirror, a sardonic smile lifting his lips as he adjusted his collar. His face looked young and attractive indeed, but he despised it. It was the face that was identical to his filthy Muggle father’s — it reminded him too much of the things he tried to forget, whispering to him of the past that he had tried to abandon, including the place he came from, and all the disgusting memories of the years spent in the orphanage.

He had long buried those memories, as well as his identity as “Tom Riddle” and replaced them with “Lord Voldemort” — the Dark Lord who was feared, worshiped, and beyond the reach of any mortal. He didn’t need the “love” that Dumbledore kept rambling about, nor did he need friendship — just servants were enough. He had spent so many years planning, designing, and building his kingdom — Voldemort’s kingdom — to pave his path to his ultimate goal of immortality.

It had been a long time since he had thought of himself as “Tom Riddle”. Those memories felt almost as if they belonged to someone else. Oh, he had become so sensitive lately. The thought disgusted him, but he had been like this ever since he had found the container of his soul stolen and exchanged. He was sure that the golden locket was still somewhere — it hadn’t been destroyed yet, had it? He should have felt it if it was truly gone.

But, no…when Dumbledore destroyed the Gaunt Ring, he had felt nothing. He had not even known of its destruction until Dumbledore had informed him during their meeting. He had probably long since lost the ability to feel for his soul. His soul might have deteriorated as an unexpected consequence that came from creating Horcruxes — it had, after all, long since lost its integrity. However, even so, he still believed that it was the only way for him to achieve his immortality. Now he only needed a little adjustment — a gamble, but it would be worth the risk.

“_Are you going out, master?_” Nagini inquired lazily as she slid out of her corner.

“_Yes, since we are back in Hogwarts, we should certainly enjoy our time here._” A gentle smile lifted his lips and his long fingers caressed the head of his snake, “_You go out and have fun, too, my girl._”

With these words, he left his room through the portrait. A girl in a white dress was sleeping peacefully in the portrait, sharply contrasting the desperate horror that had struck her when she had to welcome Riddle into the room last night.

He smiled at the sight. With soundless footsteps, he left the tower and headed to the Great Hall.

=======

Harry woke up early that morning.

He sat at the edge of his bed absentmindedly for a while, feeling drained as if he hadn’t slept a wink last night. Though there were no nightmares, he still felt a dull pain deep in his head. The pain that Riddle had planted hadn’t faded completely, and thanks to that, he still felt awful.

The rest of his roommates were still sound asleep. Even Ron, who had been so tense that he had barely been able to eat, was sleeping like a log. Harry was the only one who had been tossing and turning the whole night. Tortured by the sleeplessness, he decided to get out of his bed earlier than he normally did in the morning.

He allowed himself to linger for a few more moments, then quickly washed up and dressed after that. He had decided that it would be best if he did not involve anyone else in his troubles — likely none of the other students wanted to be involved with him now anyway — and he certainly didn’t want his friends to be in danger because of him. So he didn’t wake Ron up. 

Before he left his dormitory, he grabbed his class applications and O.W.L. results. It was the first day of the new term. Sixth-year students had to start preparing for their N.E.W.T.s and not even Voldemort’s glorious arrival would change that. The distribution of class schedules was more complicated than usual, so they had to let the Head of their House — Professor McGonagall — confirm whether they had achieved the necessary O.W.L. grades to continue with their chosen N.E.W.T.s. 

With a lump in his chest, he stepped into the common room. But Hermione was already there, pacing back and forth anxiously. She turned to him the moment she saw him.

“Harry, listen, I know you want to avoid us all, just because you don’t want us to be put in danger. But think about it — if he wants to kill you, his best chance is when you are alone! Besides, you will be safe as long as Professor Dumbledore and all the teachers are still in school — and there’s the vow too, Harry. You really don’t need to wander around all by yourself — ” The girl exclaimed with a frown, disapproving of Harry’s determination to isolate himself. Harry found himself both touched and annoyed at the same time.

“Well, none of us really knows what he wants, do we? All I know is that he wants to kill me more than anything, and he probably would have done so yesterday, if it wasn’t for the vow.”

How could he just act like nothing happened? His thoughts tangled, his feelings muddled — what was he supposed to feel when he had to stay in the same school with his mortal enemy? The man whom he had escaped so many times, each time from such grave danger? Maybe it wasn’t that he really feared him, but that the man had destroyed too many things that he cherished and what if the man decided to strike again? Could he still make another escape through his hard-won luck?

A few students appeared in the common room. They passed through and avoided Harry and Hermione intentionally, as if they carried the plague. Harry stared at them gloomily.

“Oh, don’t overthink things, Harry, Dumbledore would never allow that.”

“I do hope so — oh, could these people stop staring at me? Seriously, they could pierce me through with stares like that — ”

“You should be used to it by now, Harry. It’s not the first time, is it? You have tolerated them for so many years...”

“I just don’t like those pitiful gazes…”

They both headed to the Great Hall. Just as they stepped in, Hermione suddenly grasped in surprise, catching Harry’s attention. Seeing such a sight in the Hall, Harry figured out immediately why Hermione let out such a sound of horror, why those students who were escaping out of the Hall all stared at him with sympathy.

The sight spoke itself — Tom Riddle, of all people, was sitting at the table of Gryffindor — their table.

Out of all the tables he could choose — Harry felt a surging anger in his chest — He had to sit at the Gryffindor table.

All of the students at the table quieted down the moment Harry entered, apparently waiting for his reaction. Of course no one dared to sit around Riddle — those who came early sat as far away as they could at the other end, which left the man a circle of empty seats. While the focus of the crowd’s attention — the man from whom people were keeping a distance — was leisurely stirring his coffee. His right hand finger was circling above the steamed dark liquid while the other hand was holding a book. Harry wondered if he had borrowed it from the library — if so, Madam Pince must have been scared to death.

“Don’t, Harry, let’s move — over there.” Hermione pulled at his sleeve, pointing at the other end of the table where there were still a few seats available. It was a good thing that they had come early — the table wasn’t entirely occupied since most of the students hadn’t come down to the hall yet.

Harry agreed. Just as he was about to head to the other end with Hermione, keeping Riddle as far away as he could, the man in question suddenly raised his head.

There were no ripples in those crimson eyes — they were as undisturbed as ever. He only glanced emotionlessly at the boy and the girl who were about to leave. His right hand — which had been stirring his coffee a moment before — knocked twice on the surface of the table. The sound was light, yet loud enough to be audible for the intended audience.

The intent was clear — and surely everyone at the table had comprehended it the same way. Unconsciously, Hermione clenched Harry’s arm.

_He was calling him._

It was either a challenge or a threat, but whichever it was, Harry knew he must face it.

Voldemort was not a forgiving man. He wouldn’t just let it be if someone violated his order. No matter how harmless this charming Tom Riddle appeared, he wasn’t any less dangerous than he was before.

“You go, Hermione, I’ll go to see what exactly he wants.”

“No!” Hermione only clenched harder, grabbing him by the arm and pulling him closer. Harry tried to comfort her with a smile, but he had already made the determination.

Seeing Harry wasn’t about to change his mind, the girl sighed, “I — I’ll come with you. It will be fine. With Dumbledore right there, he wouldn’t dare do anything.”

It was more like a comfort to herself. She glanced towards the middle of the staff table, where Dumbledore was sitting. He had clearly witnessed everything that was happening in the Great Hall. To her surprise, those blue eyes behind the spectacles seemed to glitter with amusement instead of concern.

They moved closer to Riddle and sat two seats away from him. Nothing happened — in fact he didn’t even raise his head, ignoring them completely and continuing to immerse himself in the book he was reading — it seemed that their obedience was satisfying enough for him. A bored look appeared on his face, as if the book wasn’t entertaining enough.

Harry breathed a sigh of relief, cursing himself for his overreaction, which must have amused the man.

“Hey, Harry, you two are here already. No wonder I couldn’t find you in common room — ” Ron’s careless, casual greeting came from the other side of the Hall. Hermione shushed him nervously with a gesture. Ron, who had just noticed who was sitting nearby, approached Hermione from the other side with a horrified expression, which showed how badly he wanted to keep himself away from the dangerous man and maybe even his two reckless, fearless friends.

“What in Merlin’s name are you doing? Why did you choose a place like this —” asked Ron, in a whisper, “— out of all those empty seats?”

Hermione shook her head resignedly and briefly explained with a whisper in his ear. The red head appeared to understand — he stopped complaining, and no longer looked like he wanted to escape. He sat down on Hermione’s other side, determined to stay with his friends.

The hall became more and more crowded as breakfast hour drew near. Seeing what was happening at their table, the Gryffindors who came late for breakfast either took their food to the common room, or sat far away from the little group to watch the absurd show. Even the Slytherins, who were at the other end of the hall, yielded to their curiosity, occasionally turning around to witness what was happening, hissing to each other in low voices — probably taking a guess as to whether Harry Potter would be killed by Voldemort by the end of day.

Harry desperately wanted to warn these people not to whisper to each other in front of Voldemort — the man wouldn’t patiently tolerate the whispering and pointing and peculiar looks the way Harry did.

“Brilliant. Is Professor McGonagall coming or is she waiting for You-Know-Who to kill us all?” Depressed, Ron poked the bread in his plate with his fork, “and us sixth-years can’t even leave.”

Harry surveyed the whole Gryffindor table. Those who hadn’t left yet were mostly sixth-years as well as some first and second years who were too young and curious to understand the danger.

“But we must let Professor McGonagall check our O.W.L. grades and N.E.W.T. applications first. This is important, Ron. I think I’ll take Charms, Transfiguration, Herbology, and...”

Hermione’s attention completely deviated once her enthusiasm in her chosen subjects had overtaken her, and she completely forgot that there was still Lord Voldemort sitting a mere two seats away. Harry, on the other hand, looked at his O.W.Ls results absentmindedly as the girl talked. His mind lingered on the man — If he had nothing to attend to, why would he ask them to come and sit here then?

“You can’t take Potions, Harry?” asked Hermione, looking concerned. Harry nodded.

“Yeah,” he looked at his O.W.Ls results — a small black E was in the column of Potions — which sank his already heavy stomach another few inches, “I didn’t secure the required grade. It requires an “O” to take Potions. But if I want to become an Auror —”

Yes… becoming an Auror… He had never lived with an ambition stronger than that. It had seemed like the right path for him. Wouldn’t he be giving himself the best chance to survive by joining the highly trained wizards whose job it was to find and kill Voldemort? That thought had been haunting him ever since he had heard the prophecy. But now he had to give it up — because he hadn’t achieved the required grade to take the mandatory subject for the job — and it left him with no idea what to do for a career in the future.

But if the prophecy was true...if he really was the Chosen One...

He looked to his left — the man who was supposed to be his mortal nemesis was sitting there as if nothing had happened — how could the prophecy be true? How could he even manage such a task?

“Oh, Harry, maybe you could try to ask — ” Hermione started —

When the girl was about to continue, Riddle raised his eyes and met Harry’s. Harry froze under the sudden scrutiny but glared back, refusing to back down. Then he realized that it was a stupid decision, for Riddle stood up all of sudden, and just as they thought he was finally about to leave and let them breathe freely, he came around behind them and ripped away Harry’s O.W.L. results.

“What the hell are you doing!” Harry yelled out, but meanwhile he had lost his grip on the parchment, which ended up in Riddle’s hands.

If his fury could burn then he must have been like a spitting volcano. But Riddle ignored his protest entirely, and only checked his results with an intensified scrutiny. When he turned to Harry again, he eyed the boy with a surveying look and _sighed_, slightly.

“Abysmal, Potter, this is even worse than I expected.”

“WHAT?”

“Only one O in your O.W.L.s? How astonishing. Don’t you even have any talent in other subjects at all?” Riddle commented in a tone of disbelief, “The-Boy-Who-Escaped-Twice-From-Me, holding disappointing O.W.L. results like this. I expected better from you in your classes, Potter.”

There really was a look of disappointment spreading over that attractive face. It irritated Harry even further. He took his the parchment back by force, shoving it into his pocket — Riddle allowed it, loosening his grip and chuckling.

“My results are none of your business. What about you, then?” Harry retorted fiercely but soon noticed that it was a stupid question. Whom was he asking? It was Voldemort, who was said to be one of the most outstanding students in the history of Hogwarts.

“Me? Interesting.” Riddle laughed just as he expected. That face looked even more handsome when he smiled. He tilted his head and pretended to think, “I believe I was way ahead of you in my school days. I had acquired proficiency in sixth and seventh-year level spells before my third year. In fact I didn’t spend much time on the O.W.L.s — I devoted my time to something more fun. Of course any grade lower than an O was unacceptable for me.”

“Something more fun, huh? Like murdering?” He snapped with venom, and this time even Riddle was taken by surprise, but then the man smiled, pleasantly —

“Yes. That. ”

The retort made Ron nearly spill his juice, while Harry mumbled in fury, swallowing his arguments, cursing himself inwardly — he must be insane to ask him about his O.W.L. results and his crazy plans. Hermione, on the other hand, couldn’t resist a movement of her shoulders as she always did whenever they talked about grades.

“So, I heard you wanted to become an Auror.”

“So what? Fuck off if you don’t have anything else to say.” He now wished for nothing more than to be left alone. He knew Ron and Hermione would never agree with his ill-mannered attitude towards such a dangerous man, but he just couldn’t help it. And since Riddle didn’t seem to mind his attitude anyway —

“Very nice manners, Potter. Were these taught by your little muggle family? Though I am a little curious. Who gave you the idea about becoming an Auror? Interesting that you want to be one.” He flashed a smile, which astonished Harry. He really could never understand that man — Voldemort… found it interesting that he wanted to be an Auror?

“It was Professor M — oh wait, it’s your sidekick, Barty Crouch Jr.” he replied mockingly. But it was indeed the Death Eater in disguise who had first told Harry he would make a good Auror, and the idea had taken hold of him ever since, “What does it matter, anyway? I can’t take Potions — I didn’t achieve the required grade — I’m not going to become an Auror.”

“But you should try, Potter.” said Riddle, in a tone that was soft and tempting, “You would be a very good Auror — that I can see — I tried and failed to kill you twice, after all. Your grades are rather pathetic, but with regards to Professor Slughorn… I believe I can do something for you, Potter.” 

His last few words were in a whisper, a hissing sound that scratched at Harry’s ears. If he really could... if he really could become an Auror in this way...

He was almost tempted to say yes — but then it occurred to him: _there was no way the man would help him purely out of good will_.

“It’s none of your business whether I can take the subject or not. And what are you even planning with Professor Slughorn?” Harry stared at him suspiciously. “Why do you even want me to become an Auror? Surely that doesn’t matter to you, does it?”

“But it suits you, and that’s how it suits me.” Riddle just shrugged, leaning away, “Think about it. Our prophecy said that _either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives_ — doesn’t it sound like fate to you?”

He narrated the prophecy in a way that was gentle, alluring, but unsettling. It felt bizarre — he couldn’t even gauge whether the man believed the prophecy or not.

"You really believe the prophecy?" Harry asked. "But — wait, where did you even learn it? That record of the prophecy was already destroyed."

“Dumbledore told me the prophecy. You are the Chosen—one indeed. And yes, boy, I do believe it, or I wouldn’t have come to kill you, time after time. Divination is a mysterious, profound branch of magic, and prophecies are usually incredibly powerful, so strong that our fates are bound by it. Prophecies can be reversed, yes, but it is very difficult — it requires a power that is stronger than the prophecy itself.”

Riddle’s words left Harry in thought — this implication that prophecies could be reversed — how so? He didn’t think their fate could be any different. No, even if he wanted to alter his fate, he could never forget how much he hated Voldemort — the man who had destroyed too many things that he cherished. The hatred was supposed to continue until the day one of them killed the other. And yet at this moment they were having a conversation, peacefully. How inconceivable. 

Seeing Harry in thought, Riddle decided to retreat for the moment. He didn’t need to push the boy too hard, he had plenty of time.

“Well, if you don’t need my help, I shall wish you all the best of luck then, Potter.” He smiled, picked up the book he left on the table, prepared to leave, “At least your grade in Defense Against Dark Arts is fairly acceptable. Practice usually wins over theory, doesn’t it? Don’t let this period of truce blunt your sword, Harry.”

He left after those words, and Harry‘s gaze followed him even long after he had disappeared through the gate, until Ron, who seemed to be able to breathe in relief, patted him on the shoulder.

“Blimey, he’s finally gone, mate. You should have your breakfast now.” Ron filled the empty seat on his left in haste, shoving a piece of ham into his mouth — it seemed his appetite returned the moment Riddle left them. “It’s not that bad if we can’t take Potions. Look, all free periods in the afternoon, in a row! Excellent!”

“Yeah, right...” Harry returned a tired smile. The conversation with Riddle had consumed all of his energy. He picked up a slice of bread and busied himself so that he didn’t have to think about it anymore.

Only Hermione was still deep in thought, her expression grim even long after the Dark Lord had left them alone.

“Hermione, you don’t think what he said makes sense, do you?” asked Harry, in surprise.

“It does, Harry, It’s very illuminating. Whether he did it deliberately or not, he implied some quite important information.”

“Um,” He looked at Hermione, bewildered. “I thought he was here to mock me?”

“He knew the prophecy already, Harry. Apparently Dumbledore told him what he told you about the prophecy. But why would the professor do so? Is it because he has his own plans, too? And when he said that the prophecy is ‘reversible but requires a stronger power’, I think he’s implying something.”

“What are you talking about?” Ron, looked puzzled, stared at Hermione in confusion.

“He wants to change the prophecy! He wanted to kill you before, Harry — like the prophecy suggested — but not anymore. I bet he probably has plenty of power to change it. I might be wrong, but then why did he say all those things? And, what he had warned — ‘the period of truce’. The truce is not permanent, Harry. It’s going to end, and I have the feeling it won’t be too far in the future.” Said Hermione, her expression grave.

Harry swallowed. If it was indeed as she had implied, then Voldemort was only in Hogwarts for his own plan. The short truce, this illusion of peace, was agreed upon so that he could implement his unspeakable plans, and once he had achieved his goals, everything would be back to normal — to war.

“I see what you mean — I mean — the latter half. But why would he want to change the prophecy? He wants to kill me more than anything, doesn’t he?”

“I don’t know, Harry, I really don’t. That’s what I’m confused about. And I have no idea why he wants you to be an Auror — he said that it suited you so it suited him — but, there’s no way that Vol — Voldemort would want his enemy to be stronger, right?”

All three of them fell into silence, but not for long, for Professor McGonagall finally descended from the staff table to check their grades. It turned out Ron and Harry could take Potions, since Professor Slughorn only required an “Exceed Expectation”, which they had both achieved.

So after their breakfast, they prepared themselves for Snape’s Defense Against Dark Arts. The new term had begun.


End file.
